Just Round the Corner
by Angst Is My Middle Name
Summary: It was a routine apartment fire. They'd been through dozens of them, and every time they'd come out fine on the other side. There was no reason this fire should be any different... Major Character Death. More notes inside.


_**Warnings: major character death, LODD, strong language, blood.**_

 _ **This fic is related to 'Oh, There You Are,' but it can stand alone. This was vaguely inspired by a very good fic another user sent me, which points out that in 'The Greatest Rescues of Emergency,' the way Johnny and Roy talked about Chet as opposed to their other friends was a bit different than simple reminiscing. I did run the scenario by my FF/PM friend, and she vetted it for me. As always, PM me if something needs fixing and I will be happy to do so.**_

* * *

"Johnny, cut it out!"

"No! C'mon, get outta my way!"

"Stop- It's my turn!"

"No it's not!"

Johnny and Chet fell to grumbling and elbowing outside the office door, trying to listen in on Cap and the new engineer being assigned to their station. Mike had been promoted to captain that summer, and only a couple months ago in December of 1977, Marco had been promoted to engineer and left for Station 68. Johnny had been hoping Marco would simply stay on as their engineer, but it seemed that wouldn't be the case. (It did not escape his notice that his new station was very near the station Mike captained.)

"Shit!"

They heard movement inside and scrambled back, not wanting Cap to catch them eavesdropping, though their getaway wasn't exactly stealthy. _Grown men and we're skitterin' across the floor like kids caught at the cookie jar. I know he heard us._

"Really?" Cap shouted as they turned the corner, "Gage, Kelly, you twits…"

The two firemen stood snickering in the locker room, flushed and giddy at their own antics. Johnny and Chet, if possible, gotten worse when together since Mike's and Marco's departures. Part of it might have been the fact that they were roommates, but the larger part was certainly that half their behavior police had gone.

"What are you two up to?"

Roy stood before them, his arms crossed, a look of exasperation on his face. Chet opened his mouth to reply, but Roy spoke over him, "And don't say 'nothin' because we all know I know better."

Chet's mouth snapped shut. Johnny snorted, saying, "We were just tryin' to hear the words of wisdom Cap gave the new engineer."

"So you were eavesdropping."

"That's such a loaded word, Roy," Chet spoke up.

"Yeah? Then what would you call it?"

"Eavesdropping."

Roy rolled his eyes so hard Johnny worried they would fall out of his head.

"Fellas, leave Hooper alone. Just 'cause him and Cap are old friends-"

"Old friends?" Chet interrupted, "Roy, Cap put his career on the line for this guy! Cap burned his cap's hat for this man!"

"Did he really tell y'all that story?"

They turned. Hooper stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, eyebrows raised.

"No… I mean, if you wanna get technical, you told us," Chet said.

"Yeah, last year, Marco Lopez subbed at 8s with you and you told him and he came back and told us," Johnny agreed.

"Really? And you remember that?"

Johnny and Chet both shrugged. Hooper shook his head, laughing quietly. Johnny liked him. Tall and brawny, with a seemingly perpetual smile on his dark, handsome face, Hooper had actually subbed for them a few times while their last engineer was there and was only now getting transferred to 51s as his regular assignment. He already knew Cap well, and he got along with the rest of the crew, so Johnny knew Hooper would fit right into their little group with ease.

Their replacement for Marco was a few years in the department, a Japanese kid named JT Takeshi who joined at eighteen and was now twenty-two. He had the cockiness they'd all had at that age but enough sense to know that he didn't know everything. JT was a good kid, and he and Chet made a good team for only being together a couple months. _It was probably kinda intimidating for them to come into this station where we're all so close._ The two newcomers fit in well, though, didn't try to replace the people most of 51s remembered. Hooper and JT were their own men who had their own quirks and personalities, and Johnny preferred it that way.

It was early March 1978, nearly one in the morning. The tones dropped, screaming them awake. They all jumped up, pulling on their bunkers and hurrying to the apparatus.

"Sounds like a big one," JT commented.

"Sure does," Chet agreed, "That's three alarms."

"No… that's four," Johnny said.

 _Four alarms, holy shit._ That was never good, and neither was the address they were being sent to. The Mapleshade Apartments were a routine visit for fire code violations. They were overcrowded and poorly ventilated and more poorly maintained. Now, at night, with everyone asleep in their beds, this was beginning to look like a nightmare. Johnny tried not to think of all the things that could go wrong, but his stomach was twisting itself into knots, his chest tight.

"Roy, I got a real bad feelin' about this fire."

"Me, too."

The number of casualties could be the highest LA County had seen in over a decade, would be comprised of whole families, children, elderly, pets- _Stop it. Don't get worked up._ Johnny took a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts from his head. He didn't need to worry about the end casualty numbers now. He only needed to do his job. The two paramedics would be sorely needed when they arrived.

The Mapleshade Apartments were on the edge of 51s territory, and by the time they arrived, the building was very near fully involved. Smoke poured from the upper windows. Flames licked up into the sky. A cacophony of sirens and barked orders and people wailing nearly deafened Johnny when he and Roy exited the squad. Hooper quickly positioned the engine where the battalion chief told him, drove partially out of Johnny's line of sight, but he knew what was happening. His stomach twisted again.

"DeSoto! Gage! Over here!"

For a while, Johnny and Roy were busy treating victims and fellow firemen, though Roy kept the H/T close, just loud enough for them to follow what was happening. Chet and JT were busy on the first floor, holding down a fog pattern for rescuers _Soon we'll be the replacements… They're gonna need fresh troops._ Johnny worked side-by-side with Roy, and he was treating a slight burn when he heard someone call for a paramedic.

"I'll go," he told Roy, getting to his feet.

He was not about to let Roy go into that building, not if he could help it. _Roy has Joanne and Chris and Jenny waiting for him._ Johnny had far fewer people counting on him. He jogged over to the incident commander, saying, "Heard ya need a paramedic, sir."

"Oh, Gage, good. Listen, I need you and a partner to check the fourth floor for a woman, early seventies. Man said his mother is still inside. Reports say the fourth floor is pretty clear now, just a lotta smoke, but if that woman's alive, I want her out. Go… Take, uh, take Kelly with ya."

Johnny pulled on his tank and air mask and headed into the building.

"Hey, Chet, c'mon. We gotta check the fourth floor for a victim. Female in her seventies. Let's hustle, pal."

"Sure thing. You got this, JT?"

"Yeah, go 'head, Chet."

The two firemen headed into the apartment building, working their way up the stairs to the fourth floor. The building was making some ominous noises, but Johnny and Chet pushed on. _After all, ours is not to question why…_ Chet tugged on Johnny's sleeve, alerting him to their arrival on the correct floor.

"Now what room is she in?" Chet asked, looking at the smoky corridor.

"Dunno. Fella didn't say. Reckon we just oughta start lookin'," Johnny replied, "Here, you take the right side, and I'll take the left, and we'll meet back here, 'kay?"

Chet gave him an affirmative, so they set off in separate directions, seeking the missing woman. Most of the apartment doors were still wide open, the rooms hazy with smoke and char and dripping with water. Johnny's chest felt too tight, made it almost hard to breathe. He attributed it to the anxiety of searching for a victim in a still burning building. Fire was still raging on the upper floors. He could hear the dull roar above him, and he wondered briefly if the fire had spread to the fifth floor.

He'd finished with the odd-numbered rooms and was halfway through the evens when he heard it. A deafening crash. Splintering wood. Twisting metal. A pained scream. Johnny's stomach twisted so violently he almost threw up. Forgetting the potential victim, Johnny ran to the source of the awful sounds, seized with a desperate need to be sure his friend was alright.

"Chet!" he bellowed.

No reply. When Johnny found him, he understood why. The floors above must have been weakened by fire and water and old age, sending two floors worth of debris toppling down on Chet. Johnny could see him gritting his teeth, clenching his jaw, trying not to scream.

"Chet, you're gonna be alright," Johnny tried to soothe him, "You're gonna be okay, just hang in there…"

He fumbled to retrieve the H/T, calling, "Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Gage, Squad 51. I have a Code I, firefighter trapped on division 4 in possible critical condition. I need an extraction team and spare air. Located by room 424. Over."

" _Squad 51, we're sending in a team from Station 36 to assist in extraction. Over._ "

Giving a quick confirmation, he returned his full attention to Chet, telling him, "Hey, tell me where it hurts, pal. Tell me what hurts."

"Everything," he choked.

"C'mon, you know better than that. What hurts, Chet?"

"Leg-… Lef-… Lef' leg… Fuck, it-it's real bad, John-"

"I know… I know, Chet. Just stay calm. Everything's gonna be alright. 36s is comin' in to help get ya outta here and then we're gonna get ya to Rampart and everything's gonna be fine, okay?"

Chet nodded quickly, obviously in incredible pain. Johnny pressed his gloved hand into Chet's, slightly heartened by his friend's strong grip. _Somethin' just got pinned. He's gonna be fine._ They were always fine when they took care of each other. They'd proved that time and time again. As long as they had each other, there was nothing they couldn't defeat, nothing that could get them down so far the other couldn't pull him back up. Chet's grip was crushing, but it let Johnny know he was still there, still with him.

The men from 36s seemed to take forever to arrive, but in reality, only a few minutes passed.

"Hey, y'all start movin' some of this shit while I'll talk to 'im," Johnny said, looked back at Chet, "Listen, pal, your leg sounds like it's crushed. It may start to hurt a lot more when they move some of this debris and relieve the pressure. Just- You're gonna be okay. If it starts to get bad, hurts real bad, go ahead and scream and cry and cuss, whatever you want. I'm right here. I'm not leaving, got it?"

"Ye-Yeah."

"Good… I'm gonna help…"

After a few minutes of digging around and throwing debris, Chet let out a strangled scream that set Johnny's stomach churning, followed by a short series of keening sobs. _Oh God, he's really hurting._ Johnny blinked back tears. It killed him to know Chet was in such pain, but it was necessary. They had to free him so Johnny could treat him.

"C'mon, you're alright, pal… Chet, just a second… There… Let's go…"

He could see flames licking through the hole in the ceiling, so there was no time for a thorough examination until they got outside. Johnny carefully took control of Chet's legs as they carried him out, not trusting anyone else with the injured limb. Chet was shaking from pain as they set him down on a blanket, and Johnny was confident he could already see the problem.

"His goddamn femur's broke, Roy," he said quietly.

"Holy shit…"

There was a distinct deformity in the left femur, the limb clearly bulging inward. Johnny grabbed for his scissors, cutting through the turnout gear with some difficulty. Chet was breathing rapidly now, his skin cool and clammy, his muscles still shaking. Johnny bit back a gasp when he saw the full extent of the damage.

The falling debris, through it didn't cut through the gear, had managed to shatter Chet's femur from the outside, his inner thigh bulging. Bone shards had pierced the skin in a couple places, the wounds bleeding profusely.

"Plea-Please, it fuckin' hurts!" Chet cried, "It real-really fuckin' hur-hurts!"

"I know, I know," Johnny soothed, allowing Roy to take over treatment for a moment, "Calm down, babe, you're gonna be fine. I promise. We just gotta call Rampart before we give you anything for pain. You know that."

He smoothed some the curly hair back from his friend's forehead.

"Johnny, his BP's tankin' fast."

"What? No-"

Johnny checked the IV, checked the splint, checked the pressure bandage. The bandage was already a deep red, soaked with blood and beginning to drip onto the ground. Johnny swore, working quickly to replace the bandage. Chet was becoming less and less coherent. The pain didn't seem to bother him as much anymore, his eyelids fluttering, his breath rapid and shallow, pulse rapid and weak. _No no no no no… This is a nightmare. This isn't happening._ Johnny worked as fast as he could, did everything he could think of. Both paramedics climbed into the ambulance with their friend.

"John-Johnny…" Chet breathed, barely audible over the noise of the ambulance, " 'm cold…"

 _Because you don't have enough blood._ Rough fingers weakly wrapped around Johnny's, the skin cool and clammy and much too pale. He replied softly, "I know… c'mon, just hang in there 'til we get to Rampart and everything'll be alright. I promise."

"Shuddup, babe… don-don't lie."

"Chet-? Wha-? No, stop it. You're gonna be fine-"

"I'm not."

The blue eyes were half-lidded but bright, staring up at him. _No, I wanna wake up. Please… This is a nightmare…_ A soft and broken, "Please," escaped Johnny's lips. He gripped Chet's cold hand tighter. Rampart was still several minutes away. Proper medical treatment, blood products, lifesaving vascular surgery were all several minutes away. _We're really not gonna make it._ Johnny's lip trembled.

"Hey…" Chet whispered, "Hey, none… none a' that… 's okay…"

"No, it's not. It's not okay."

"N-No… s'pose it isn't… had a-a good run, tho-though… just… 'm scared, Johnny."

Johnny swallowed around the lump in his throat, tried to steady his voice, said, "Don't be scared… Chet, don't be scared. It's gonna be alright."

"Johnny, 'm sorry-"

"Don't be sorry, either."

He fought back tears to no avail. They slipped down his cheeks, wet and burning.

"I-I said none a' that… 'member? Cut tha-that shit out…"

Johnny's laugh sounded more like a sob. He replied honestly, "I can't… I'm scared, too. Please, you're my best friend. Chet, I can't lose you. I can't-"

"John… Ga-Gagey-baby… thank you…"

The ghost of a smile sat on Chet's face as if he were trying to reassure Johnny, and for a moment, it worked. For a moment, it felt like any other time Chet had been hurt. For a moment, Chet only had a broken shoulder, had only cut his finger, had only slipped and fell. For a moment, he hadn't really been hurt so bad and was just being dramatic. Chet's eyes fluttered shut.

"No… no, please stay with me, Chet… Chet-"

"Johnny, I lost his pulse," Roy told him, panic evident.

He let go of Chet's hand, set to work doing chest compressions, tried desperately to press and breathe life back into his friend, unwilling to give up. The ambulance arrived at Rampart. Johnny straddled Chet on the gurney, still doing CPR. _The doctor'll set him right. He'll fix 'im up. I just hafta keep him goin'…_ He didn't realize they were in the treatment room until Roy physically pulled him off the gurney. Morton and Early took over for him, working at the same frantic pace. Roy kept a firm grip on Johnny's arm, keeping him from jumping back into the fray. The two paramedics watched the doctors and nurses work. Johnny wasn't sure how much time passed.

Early slumped over, sad, weary, and said thickly, "Roy, Johnny… I-… I'm sorry. We did everything we could. I just-… I'm so sorry."

"No…" Johnny shook his head, "No… Doc- No, don't play with me."

"I would never do that, not when it's this serious. He just lost too much blood. I think he had another internal injury that was bleeding, also. I'm just so sorry. I know you're close."

Johnny felt lightheaded and short of breath, felt Roy grip his arm tighter. His chest was painfully tight. _This isn't real. It's a nightmare. I'm gonna wake up soon._ He looked down at his bloody hands. They felt very real. He shook his head again, stepping away from Roy and Dr. Early to approach Chet as he lay on the gurney. This could not be real. Something gruesome would happen soon to alert him to his nightmare state, he would wake up, and all would well. Chet would be there to comfort him and tell him everything was alright. Everything was always alright.

His whole body was shaking. Contrary to cliché, Chet did not look asleep. His eyes were closed, but he was white as a sheet, arms hanging limply at his sides, mouth slightly open. No, he did not look asleep. Johnny carefully took one of Chet's hands in his own to lay it across his chest. It was already cold. _He looks dead._ Johnny's lip trembled, his breath shaky, almost whimpering. Tears burned in his eyes. He heard himself murmuring, "No, no, no," over and over, a litany of slow realization and overriding grief, dropped his head onto Chet's still chest.

For a long moment, he stayed like that, praying for some miracle to bring life back to his friend. A strong, familiar hand gripped his shoulder. Johnny picked up his head. Roy's expression was a poor mask of composure, grief evident in his face and eyes as he tried to stay strong.

"Roy, tell me this isn't real," Johnny pleaded thickly, "Please… please, it can't be real."

The other paramedic simply shook his head and gently pulled Johnny away, leading him to the door. Johnny was shaking badly now, but he was doing fairly well until he turned to look at Chet one last time. A strangled noise escaped his throat, and his legs buckled. He hit the floor hard, obviously surprising Roy who was unable to catch him in time. Too many emotions warred inside him, made him curiously numb. _This isn't real._ The words just repeated on a loop inside his head. Roy knelt beside him, hands gentle on Johnny's shoulders, asking quietly, "Did you hurt yourself, John?"

He'd probably have bruises for a week, but that didn't bother him right now.

"Do you think you could stand up?"

"I-… I dunno…"

"Okay, just wait here. I'll be right back."

Roy got to his feet, returning a moment later with a wet towel. He carefully took hold of Johnny's hand and began cleaning the blood away. Johnny watched him work, allowed himself to be mesmerized and calmed by the tender movements.

"I asked Dr. Early to direct Cap in here in a minute, okay?" Roy told him in a brittle voice, "JT will probably wanna come in, too, since they're partners. Someone's gon-gonna need to call- um, call Mike and Marco an-and let them wha-… let 'em know what happen-"

Roy's voice choked off. He gripped Johnny's hand and ducked his head, his shoulders jumping and shaking as he tried not to cry aloud. Johnny brought his other hand up and drew his partner into an embrace, pulling him in until Roy's forehead touched his temple. He could feel Roy shaking against him. They sat there on the floor for a long moment, holding each other, and there they were when Cap came in. Their captain looked tired, utterly exhausted. He'd obviously been trying not to cry in the engine or out in the corridor, but his tears started to fall when he saw Johnny and Roy on the floor and Chet on the gurney.

"So-… So this is it? He's-? He's really-?"

Neither paramedic replied, but they didn't have to. Cap hadn't really asked a question, merely stated his own disbelief and horror. Their captain wouldn't break down here, though. _He has to be tough. He has to put up a good front… or so he thinks._ Johnny still felt numb, as though this was all a nightmare he would soon wake from. _If I keep it together, then I'll wake up. That'll prove it wasn't real._

JT cried. He was young and relatively new in the department. He hadn't known anyone who'd died, so he cried, loud and unabashed. Johnny gently disengaged from Roy and got to his feet, wrapping his arms around the young lineman, his body shivering as he sobbed. Johnny just held him, let JT cry against his shoulder. _I wonder what they think of me right now…_ The tears still weren't coming. He held JT for a while, was holding him as Hooper came in, his own tears flowing.

He didn't exactly remember going back to the station. He was just there, sitting on the old leather couch, Henry beside him. The dog whined softly, resting his head in Johnny's lap. Johnny just stroked his head. His chest was so tight it hurt. His head hurt. His stomach hurt. He knew he ought to try and sleep like the others, but he couldn't. It just didn't feel real. He kept expecting Chet to walk through the door wearing a grumpy, indignant expression, demanding to know why he was left at Rampart. Somehow, Johnny felt that going to sleep would make it real.

So he didn't sleep. Johnny stayed up the rest of the night and most of the next day, barely speaking to Roy or Joanne or the kids. He couldn't go back to the apartment he shared with Chet. _That would make it real._

"Johnny?"

He looked up. It was dark again. Roy stood silhouetted in the doorway.

"Did… Did you sleep at all, Junior?"

"Umm… no. I can't sleep."

"Some sleep might make you feel better. I mean, nothin's really gonna make this better, but at least-"

"No, Roy… I mean, I-I can't sleep. I can't go to sleep."

"Why not?"

"I just can't… I-I'm scared. If I go to sleep and I wake up and this is still real…"

He wasn't sure how to finish that sentence so he just let it hang. Roy would know what he meant. They were silent for a long moment, neither knowing what to say.

"Listen… Johnny, we need to go to your apartment tomorrow. We need-umm… We need to find Chet's papers," Roy said quietly, "I know he told you where to find them."

Johnny didn't reply. _This isn't real. It can't be real._ It was impossible. Chet was his best friend. They were supposed to be friends forever. They were supposed to work their way up through the department together. Johnny and Chet were supposed to be indestructible, unbreakable, immortal. This was something that happened to other people, to other stations. It was never supposed to happen to them. Johnny might've slept at some point that night, his body and mind simply shutting down for him to gain some respite. He still felt tired and miserable in the morning.

Johnny stared at the door to his apartment, key in hand, Roy beside him. This would be the test. _Maybe I'll finally wake up._ He was just exhausted. He hurt. He wanted this nightmare to be over. Roy's hand was firm at his elbow, supporting, calming. After a few steadying breaths, Johnny slid the key into the lock, turned it, pushed the door open.

It felt surreal. Everything was where they'd left it only days ago. They'd been in a hurry and left the place a bit of a mess, as they were wont to do: a shirt here, an empty beer bottle there, books and records and magazines scattered haphazardly around the living room. Everything was right where it was supposed to be. _How can everything be so normal when it's so fucked up?_ Johnny's breath caught in his throat. Something twisted painfully in his chest. Tears blurred his vision. _No no no… this isn't real. It can't be real._

He was suddenly aware of arms wrapped around his chest, pinning his arms, and a quiet voice in his ear, shushing and soothing. Johnny was wheezing, chest heaving, tears hot on his cheeks.

"This isn't real!" he choked, "Roy-! Roy, please, I wanna wake up! This isn't real!"

Roy eased him to the floor, still holding him. Johnny wanted to be embarrassed about his show of emotion, but he couldn't. This was his partner, after all. They'd seen each other at their worst. More than once they'd held each other and just cried over what they couldn't fix, each comforting the other as best he could. Johnny's chest was much too tight, so tight it physically hurt, his breath still wheezing.

"Calm down, Johnny," Roy told him softly, "C'mon, calm down… Johnny, breathe. You need to breathe or you're gonna pass out. You know that… Just breathe for me… I got ya, pal…"

Johnny sucked in a harsh breath and finally let out a sob. Reality crashed over him like a tidal wave. This was not a nightmare. This was not something he could wake up from. This was real. Chet was really dead. He cried for a long time, wrapped up in Roy's arms, rocked gently by his partner. He was exhausted. He hurt. He just wanted to stay in his partner's arms until he felt better.

"He's my best friend, Roy," Johnny said after a few minutes, his voice soft and thick, "I know it didn't always seem like it, but he's one of my best friends. I-I don't know what I'm gonna do without him."

"We'll get through it. We will. We always do."

"But this isn't like any other time before."

Roy soothed, "I know… but we'll be okay. It's gonna be a long time, but we'll get there."

Johnny simply nodded. He couldn't think of anything to say.

"Alright, c'mon, Junior. We need to find his papers. I'm gonna be right here with you. C'mon, on your feet…"

He almost broke down again in Chet's room, but he managed to keep all but a few tears in. _Chet will never be here again._ The two paramedics began searching for Chet's papers (because Chet had never actually thought it necessary, apparently, to let anyone know where these important papers were, not even Johnny as Roy had suspected.)

"I knew it," Johnny said.

Pulling the small strongbox out from under the bed, Johnny sat up, the metal box cradled in his hands. Roy came over and sat by him on the floor. Johnny's fingers shook as he opened the box. On top, he found a letter written in Chet's hasty scrawl.

 _'_ _I, Chester Buchanan Kelly, being of sound mind and body, do hereby establish this as my last will and testament, on February 26, 1978. I'm pretty sure that's right anyway._

 _'_ _To use a simple cliché, if you're reading this, I'm dead. I hope it was a good one, one that happened while I was helping people rather than something stupid like choking on a hotdog or something like that. I try to keep this thing up to date and keep everybody in it. Now for some business:_

 _'_ _First off, I want to be cremated. Let them take anything they can salvage and burn the rest. I really don't want a big funeral or anything, either, but I know the department loves to get everyone together and make an event out of it, so just make sure they keep it simple. I'd like to have a stone with my family, nothing fancy, just name and dates. Spread my ashes somewhere nice where I liked to go._

 _'_ _As for my stuff: Johnny, Marco, Mike, Roy, Cap, JT, and Hooper… I want you all just to kinda split it up among yourselves. I know you're all not going to start stupid fights. I don't even really have a lot of stuff. Use the van for some kinda demo. Sell the Charger. Split up my money and donate half to the firemen's fund and half to Disabled American Veterans._

 _'_ _I know you're all going to be sad. You're going to miss me. It's going to hurt. Nothing I write here can change that. Just don't dwell on it. Don't stay sad and withdrawn forever. I want you to be happy when you think of me and our time together. We got to do a lot. We saved a lot of people. We had fun. Please, I'd like for you to remember the fun. You all were my family when I had none, and I can never thank you enough._

 _'_ _There are some envelopes here in the box, one for everyone. (Apologize to Hooper for me. We didn't really spend enough time together for me to make one, but I did leave a note for him.) They're the best way I could think of to thank you for being my family. I love you all, and I'll see you on the other side._

 _'_ _Signed, Chester Buchanan 'Chet' Kelly.'_

Johnny sniffed loudly, cleared his throat, wiped at his face; Roy did the same. _Don't be sad? How can I not be sad when you're gone?_ It wasn't as though Chet had simply gone to the store or went on vacation. He was dead. Johnny's lip trembled, and he ducked his head. A strong arm went around his back, soothing, comforting. He leaned into his partner's warmth. Roy murmured, "Here…" carefully taking the box from Johnny's lap and pulling out the stack of envelopes. Some were fat, so full of material they wouldn't even remotely close all the way. Some were thinner. Two were fully closed, not much material in them at all.

They got together with the rest of the station, along with Marco and Mike, to see what was in their envelopes. Johnny's was one of the ones that was full to bursting. He opened it with shaking fingers. Inside, he found all the memories he shared with Chet. There were photos and little notes and ticket stubs and newspaper clippings… everything. Around him, he heard soft gasps and quiet laughs and muted sobs, each fireman caught up in his own little world. Among the memories, Johnny found a letter in another small envelope and carefully unfolded it.

 _'_ _Hi Johnny. I hope you're getting this under good circumstances like one of us won the lotto and retired or we got promoted and won't be at the same station anymore, but more than likely, I died. I know you're really sad and upset but I wish you wouldn't be. Of course, I'm not exactly one to talk. I've been known to fall apart a time or two when something bad happens. Still, don't be down for too long. That's why I left all this._

 _'_ _These are all the memories we made. I left em so hopefully you'd look back on the good times and maybe they'd cheer you up a little. Maybe I only made things worse, I'm pretty good at that after all, but I really hope it eases the pain a little. I think yours is the fattest envelope of all of them. We fought sometimes but you're one of my best friends in the whole world, and it has been one of the greatest privileges of my life to call you my friend and my brother._

 _'_ _Johnny, I'm gonna need you to help the guys. Lighten the mood once in a while. Crack some jokes. Pull some good pranks for me. Keep fighting the good fight and helping people._

 _'_ _This is the most important part of this right here, and I need to tell you this because I never got to before… I love you. You're my best friend I ever had. You're good and kind and wonderful and you helped so many people. Don't ever change. And please, please, always remember that I love you. If there's any such thing as an afterlife, I'll see you there. Just not too soon. You still have so much more to do. I love you._

 _'_ _Your friend and brother, Chet.'_

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Johnny pulled out the photos and began to sift through them. A smile crept onto his face. _I can't believe he took the time to do this for all of us. God, I love you, too, pal._ For a moment, Johnny could pretend Chet was still there, could pretend that maybe he'd just gone around the corner into the next room. Laughter bubbled up in his chest and burst out, loud and long and raucous. Everyone stared.

"Remember-" he wheezed, turning the picture around, "Remember the-the basketball game? We all wouldn't let him play but he-he turned out to be really good? He won us the game but- just- goddamn, his form was terrible-!"

Johnny couldn't stop laughing, and soon, everyone was laughing right along with him, all telling stories about their friend. _How's that, Chet? How's that for keepin' morale up?_ He could almost hear the reply in his head: _You're doin' a great job, babe. Keep it up._ Marco gave a loud snort and showed off another photo, setting off another round of laughter.

* * *

 _Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!_

–Henry Scott Holland, 1910


End file.
